La Danse Macabre
by Looseefur
Summary: One night of the year Death visits Highgate Cemetery to play his fiddle to the dead and for this one night they get to live their death to the fullest. Based on the poem 'L'illusion' by Henri Cazalis and the song 'La Danse Macabre' by Camille Saint Saëns


It was now dark on the eve of November, Highgate cemetery was cold and deserted during the last day of October. Rain had fallen and now the blades of grass and graveside offerings were now shimmering in the glow of gaslight, the beads of water sparkled like diamonds. All was silent as only the wind sung it's moaning and whistling tune, it tugged gently at the grass and dead amber leaves. So tranquil, so quiet. No soul was present in the graveyard, they were dour places and as it was now winter no one ever wanted to visit their dead, they were left in solitude to lay in their tombs and their coffins, only the greenery moved, it rustled as old leaves were kicked up by the wind, and twigs scratched and scraped at stone. The moon was high up in the clear sky, the pale milkiness in stark contrast to the sheet of black over the land.

A raven landed on a grave stone inscribed 'ALFRED F. JONES. BORN 4th JULY 1867 - DIED 27th AUGUST 1886.' It tilted it's head and looked down at the grey head stone 'IN LOVING MEMORY OF OUR BRIGHT SON' With a loud, piercing caw and a flap of it's iridescent black wings, the raven flew into the frigid night air, the dark pitch wings grew large and melded with the shadows cast by the bare trees, the feathers stretched out and became a long cloak, the form of the bird became human and in his hands he held a mahogany violin. His face was gaunt and the man cloaked in dark blue walked across the cemetery. He passed a stone tomb in the shape of a casket, it was fairly modest and the left side had gained a fair coating of moss, it made the words harder to read, but they were still legible, it said 'NATALYA ARLOVSKAYA. BORN 25th AUGUST 1862 - DIED 1st MARCH 1882.' The script about who she had been was obscured too much by the moss. The man didn't stop though, and carried on. Tonight was a special night and he breezed on briskly, the tight curl at the front of his hair bouncing as he walked.

He came to a tomb, the ledge of the ground making it so he could just step up onto the stone building. It was beautifully carved and side of the heavy door a marble plaque read 'Here is the tomb of ARTHUR KIRKLAND. BORN 23rd APRIL1849 - DIED 30th NOVEMBER 1872 AND HIS FIANCEE LILLY ZWINGLI BORN 12 JULY 1853 - DIED 30th NOVEMBER 1872. MAY THEY BE TOGETHER IN HEAVEN.' The gaunt man with chocolate brown hair and deep violet eyes raised the instrument he was holding to his shoulder, and lowered his pointed chin to the leather rest with the lacquered scroll directed out at half way between nine and eight o'clock to his body. He brought the bow up, it was held in his long and delicate fingers but he didn't begin his song with the bowing instead he plucked the strings. As he did this he sharply struck the roof of the tomb with the heel of his polished boot.

He plucked the thin strings echoing in the night, carried further by the wind, beneath him the low and gravely growl of stone shifting could be heard as the door to the tomb of the engaged couple began to be pushed open, a man on the inside was forcing the stone slab to move, and only a few plots away a mottled hand erupted from the moist ground of a grave with a small cross, it's raised stone text reading 'MATTHEW WILLIAMS. BORN 1st JULY 1850 - DIED 8th DECEMBER 186-' the rest of the number had been worn away and most of the message was too all that could be read was 'BROTHER' and the word 'DEAR'. The corpse was digging his way out slowly, but surely and as the door to the stone building was finally shifted after a year of rest in that same place, a man in his early twenties could be seen in the doorway, his black tail suit was worn and dusty. He looked down at the younger man who now had his head above the ground and was currently hauling himself out of his six foot grave. His blonde hair, though it looked soft it was matted by dirt and the decay of his scalp, reaching chin length, his glasses were caked in filth it was a wonder he could see at all. The man in the tomb, Arthur, was holding the hand of a small woman in a beautiful pink dress, but like her partner's suit it was covered with dust. He looked to the younger but also in a respect, older teen as he let go of his fiancée's hand to help up the other. They were all dead and all the same, there was no need for the boundaries of class, money and social status didn't mean anything when you joined the ranks of cadavers.

The scruffy haired undead knelt by the freshly opened grave and held out his hand, blackened palm stiff with stale blood that had pooled there. The bespectacled one looked up his glassy lilac eyes peering over them and connecting to the equally misted green ones of the other, taking his hand and hoisting himself out of his grave for the night. As the second man emerged the cloaked spectre standing upon the Kirkland-Zwingli tomb began to bow on the strings with vigour, the notes carried throughout Highgate. More corpses began to dig out of their graves and emerge from their eternal resting places. Standing Arthur held Lilly's hand again and the two men bowed to each other and young woman gave a polite curtsey, with the crack of a smile the couple faced each other with glee, their putrid odors did nothing to dampen their spirits, the pair smelt of decay and dust, the musty scent clung to them as the woman with blonde hair tied in a purple ribbon, placed a hand on her partner's shoulder, and he place his pale and corded one to her waist. Every November's eve they paired up for this dance together. Slowly they started off working the year's rest from their bones which cracked in time to the music. The younger, Matthew smiled and went to find his own dance partner from the previous year.

To the east of the cemetery the melody of the bowing carried, the sound had softened over the distance but it could still be heard as at the base of a gothic style statue of an angel, it's stone wings were spread and it's eyes wept tears of fresh rain. The soil of the two graves at it's feet began to stir, the grave marker in the shape of a cross ,under the guardian angel's left wing read 'FRANCIS BONNEFOY. BORN 14th JULY 1858 - DIED 5th SEPTEMBER 1884. LOVING FATHER AND HUSBAND' The damp earth rose and two hands emerged from the grave of the man, they were together and then separated like he was shovelling the dirt to the sides. Filthy hands soon dug into the ground as a man pulled himself out. He could see the dirt under his fingernails, and after running a hand through his hair he could feel a few clumps of soil and the odd tangle causing him to frown, but when he looked over to his side to see his wife hand not quiet dug her way out yet, he knelt by the grave and started to scrape away the earth with his large hands. The stone now in front of him also like his, a cross but tucked under the weeping angel's right wing, it had been inscribed with 'JEANNE BONNEFOY. BORN 6th JANUARY 1865 - DIED 30th MAY 1884. CHERISHED WIFE AND NEW MOTHER.' soon one of her delicate hands poked up through the dirt and the man with long blonde hair tied back loosely in a dark blue ribbon held it tenderly, like he was telling her through touch that he was there. His other hand still working away at the soil, and soon enough he found her other hand that was digging it's way upwards. Francis gripped her other hand now enough of the earth had been moved and he pulled up his beautiful wife. Her white gown just like his suit was filthy, it had grass stains and patches of brown from where soil had been ground into the fabric. With an affectionate hug and a kiss the couple rose from their resting place and walked back to death.

Their fingers laced as they walked, so happy to be above ground again, as so many of them were, Francis could see Matthew digging up a grave and helping up a woman with short light hair and a full figure. From where he was his hollow cornflower blue eyes could see the stone marked 'KATYUSHA BRAGINSKAYA. BORN 24th AUGUST 1851 - DIED -' the rest of the script was worn away, just like the two who watched them they were both filthy with dirt on their clothes and matted hair. Just like he had done with Arthur, the violet eyed man bowed to the slightly shorter blonde and the two women followed suit with the exchange of curtseys. All four of them smiled, this was their night of freedom as they continued on their route back to the clearing by the stone tomb death was standing upon. They passed many other graves who's occupants were now digging their way out, and tombs who's lids and doors were being shifted. They passed a tomb belonging to a 'GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT. BORN 18th JANUARY 1857 - DIED 12th FEBRUARY 1877' cracked open and a very pale head popped up as he sat in his stone tomb for the first time in a year, he arched his back and let out a laugh as he smiles. His snow white hair shed dust as the wind whipped it up and he climbed out of his stone casket, he knew who he wanted to dance the night away with, he ran behind the four and slapped his hands on Francis and Matthew's shoulders before dashing off again to go looking for his partner. The four laughed as they watched the pale man run off to the south in search of the woman he wanted to dance with.

When they came to the clearing Arthur and Lilly were still dancing, they kept their eyes on each other only vaguely aware of their surroundings and Death's melody, only when they turned in their waltz did they notice the four newcomers, though they weren't really new, they'd all seen each other last year and the year before that. Francis greeted Arthur with a charming smile and a wave, he only smiled a little at Francis in return, but the happiness was clear in his mossy eyes. Of course the older in life but younger in death knew that the other's decomposition had led to him starting to lose his teeth so he didn't smile often. The two couples who had just arrived took up their starting positions Jeanne and Katyusha placed their thinning hands on the shoulders of their respective partners and they place their own hands on their waists. The couple of glassy blue eyed blondes mimicked the traditional style of waltz that the already dancing pair were doing. While Matthew and Katyusha had a more relaxed style where both of the bespectacled corpse's hands were on the other's waist, while her's were draped around his neck and shoulders, it was a more relaxed but still intimate style of dance. The song continued and Death smiled, it looked like the turnout would be good this year, now he had three couples dancing and more were soon to follow.

Foot steps from behind the violinist could be heard, they pounded on the wet ground and a strapping young corpse dressed in a smart, now off-white shirt and dress trousers, bounded past Death and jumped down from the roof of the stone tomb. A second set of feet, though much softer in sound than the first, could be heard as a woman with flowing platinum hair followed him. As the first cadaver with wheat coloured hair, and glasses smeared with dirt, touched down on the ground he let out a laugh, it was slightly croaky but the joy and volume spread out far, he grinned to the couple already dancing, his teeth were good and his smile was still worth a million dollars. Two pairs of glassy green eyes looked back at him, Arthur and Lilly smiled though they didn't show their teeth to him, the happiness was still there as they swayed and spun in their waltz. The new man with a lock of hair that stuck up at the front turned back to the stone tomb and looked up to see his companion, her hair looked like a wedding vail, so white and pure, not quiet holding the taint of death like the rest of her body did, with the moon in its final quarter before fullness, it gave of enough milky light to make her hair glow, and illuminate the dust particles that fluttered out. The cloaked violinist looked back to see which two graves these undead had sprung from, he spotted the open tomb of Natalya and the disturbed soil of Alfred's grave. She jumped down when the other held out his strong arms, he was one of the corpses who hadn't been in the ground as long as the others so he was much more fresh than the rest, but that certainly didn't mean he didn't reek. The woman's blue and white dress fluttered as she fell and then landed in the other's arms. She kissed his cheek gently and he smiled bright before fluidly touching her feet to the ground and holding her hands, they shared a quiet moment before they they thrust themselves into the spinning and swaying trio of couples. They mimicked Matthew and Katyusha's less formal style, gently swaying in the wind like the trees to the rhythm of the music.

Gilbert had gone south and located a grave under a tree, it was a large stone cross reading 'ELIZABETA HÉDERVÁRY. BORN 8th JUNE - - DIED 7th JULY 1875' again parts of the text were so badly worn they couldn't be read. The shadowed grave already had slender hands rising up to the darkened heavens, He would have thrown the soil back to rebury her for fun or at least let her dig her own way out since he knew in his rotted brain that the woman would just refused him, but the music was already playing and he wanted them to join the throng. Eager he reached down his pale grey hands and shovelled away the dirt that hid Elizabeta, her own slender hands helping him shift the soil. Soon she was pulling herself out, Gilbert hooked his mottled hands under her arms and hoisted her up out of the grave and onto the overgrown grass. Her long brown hair matted with dirt but still thick and beautiful, at least to Gilbert's black eyes, in life they were red but now he had died and his blood had gone stale, turning his eyes black. She smiled at him and they sprang up, Elizabeta's limbs creaking from her sleep six foot under, and they ran eagerly to join the already celebrating dancers. Quickly arriving out side the large tomb where Death stood playing his tune. Gilbert smiled at Francis, his teeth glinting in a mischievous grin, taking the woman's hands.

Two more still to join, they lay to the north of the cemetery a, shared tomb in the shape of a double coffin with two people carved into it's top appearing to be in a deep sleep. Underneath the heavy lid two pair of hand worked to shift it, every year they were late because of the sheer weight of their tomb, but at least Death was patient enough to wait for them to arrive. The stone wall to the left of the female statue read "HERE LAY EMMA - AND ANTONIO FERNÁ-Z -EDO -" Although their tomb was so beautiful in it's carvings, most of the script had worn away. However soon enough the rather tiresome lid had been shifted and a blonde woman dressed in a gown of green velvet and a man in a matador out fit emerged. Both pairs of glazed green eyes were shining in the moonlight, with smiles cut across their faces they climbed out of their tomb, holding the other's rotting hand in their own they ran through the headstones to join Death and the rejoicing cadavers.

Once the final couple had joined the dance they were greeted with smiles and waves from the other couples, Antonio and Emma however didn't waltz like the rest did, in some form or another, these two dead decided to tango. Sharp movements caused loud creaks and cracks of their bones but it only added to the symphony of the other couple's old bones. Death smiled from atop the tomb of Arthur and Lilly, now they were assembled in their mirth and Death's dark violet eyes reflected their glee, now they were all here he took the song further in it's melody picking up as the corpses became more lively than they ever had in life. And the beauty of it is that the night is not over yet.


End file.
